I do not ask you.
The trembling flawless
kiss lands at the
lips of moon.
The prize was
not honored, returned
to the donor of death.
Without words
the abstract settles for
clues to take an
elliptical path.
The genius will
bring, down your lids
to see your bleeding feet
leaving the footprints.
There was no regret
to make myself fair
to undo the night's
womb.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 20th, 2022 19:08
- Category: Nature
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
(below in my instantaneous
and overzealous, poetic response
born of your inspirational poem
may be the most important scribble
I shall ever, achieve
in this meek existence, I live
and for that, and
for all the other time's you've inspired me
to surpass my pitiful limitations
I thank you, wholeheartedly)
'I seek, no yield
in measuring jugs
of would-be
conquering lungs
I fear
no bottomless pit, endings
or stark awakenings..
solace, be my midnight
and I will wage war for you
at that dawning of light..
regret, no longer
may you scavenge
from within me, your respite
I yield, willingly
but still
resolute and chaotically
calm
in my pulsing songs
I Choose, to believe
like Keats'
that our wild dreams
be sojourning
on those clouds of change
and within them, threads
a likeness to me
a likeness, far removed from
me
yet, a likeness
that champions, the very me
I shall endeavour, to be!'
L. B. Mek
21/4/2022
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